Page 113 of Rules Of Our Own
She gestures toward River. “Mr. Davis has been training in the art of Shibari for over a year now. He’s practiced several rope patterns using one of our body forms designed for this purpose. He requested the space to be able to perform the knots on you with me as a safety check since this will be the first time with a live participant. River will lead you throughout. Just pretend I’m not here.”
My breaths are shallow, my muscles tingling in anticipation as I take the first steps toward River. Time seems to stand still, and all sound fades away as our eyes connect.
“Do you want to continue?” he asks, so casually I feel confident he’d be completely fine if we left, but the last thing on my mind is leaving. I want to know what it feels like to have this man take complete control over me.
“I want to stay,” I rasp, and he gives me a dark smile that makes a million promises that I know he’ll keep. Warmth pools in my lower stomach, and I rub my thighs together against the growing ache.
“Perfect, Love.” River’s voice drops to a deep, rumbly command that has shivers running up my spine. “Color?”
My body buzzes with anticipation. “Green.”
“That’s my girl,” he says and walks behind me, lifting my hair off my neck. He kneads his fingers, massaging my head, and a soft gasp escapes me. He combs through my hair in slow, deliberate motions, carefully untangling the ends.
“That’s nice,” I hum, unable to look away from his intense dark eyes looking back at me in the mirror. My skin feels electric as his fingertips graze the sensitive spot behind my ear. His tall frame looms behind me, and I feel my heart flutter in response. He leans closer, as if to make sure he has my full attention, and wraps my hair around his fist, placing a gentle kiss against the nape of my neck.
“Your hair needs to be up to continue,” he explains calmly.
I check my wrists for the tie I had at work, but I must have left it there. Shit. I go to tell him, but my mouth drops open when he pulls a small elastic from his pocket.
He parts my hair in neat sections, and my heart skips when he starts french braiding from the tops. A shiver travels down my neck as his nail grazes me when he lifts a new section. He speaks low, close to my ear. “It’s to protect your hair from getting twisted in the ropes.”
He sounds so matter-of-fact, but a quick glance in the mirror shows his eyes are hooded and his chest is rising rapidly.
The action is so intimate my chest squeezes. “Where did you learn how to do this?”
He gives me a lazy smile that goes straight to my core. “YouTube.”
An unlikely image of him practicing braids on Alex has a laugh bubbling from my throat. He gives a firm tug on my hair, and I inhale sharply, focusing my attention back on River.
River takes care of wrapping an elastic around the end and tucks it under itself. He cups the back of my neck, giving it a light squeeze. His fingers trail along my shoulder and collarbone, keeping even pressure as he steps around to face me. “This technique uses three ropes. You’ll feel pressure, but it shouldn’t pinch.”
There’s motion in the corner, and I spot Violet. I forgot about her. I swallow hard, fingers grazing the hem of my dress. There’s a hum under my skin, but for the first time tonight, it’s not comfortable.
River uncurls my fingers and holds my palms in his hands before wrapping them around my back. “Fold them behind you and cup your opposite elbow.” His tone drips with dominance, sending heat to my core, and I comply.
“I don’t have to be naked?” I ask.
“Not this time,” he says, his voice full of future promises, and I wet my lips.
“Okay,” I breathe out, cupping my elbows behind me.
River grabs three ropes from a nearby table. They’re made of twisted red fiber, and if I had to guess, I’d say it’s a half inch thick. He slowly trails the end down my neck and follows the neckline of my dress. The baby-soft fabric sends tingles where it touches, and I struggle to inhale. I thought it would be rough, some kind of coarse material, but this is almost luscious in how it feels against my sensitive skin.
“Color?” River checks in.
“Green!” I say a little too excitedly, and it pulls a chuckle from River.
“Good, Love.” He rounds behind me and meets my stare in the mirror’s reflection, then reaches forward, banding the rope a few inches below my shoulders. He’s folded it in half so it’s double stacked and lays it flat against my chest. His rough fingers graze the exposed skin above my neckline as he straightens it, then ties it in a knot behind me.
“Watch in the mirror. See how good you stand still for me.” River drags a finger underneath, checking the tension, and heat floods my core at his gentleness. It’s tight enough to feel snug but not to the point that it restricts my breathing.
I look at the mirror but can’t look away from him. River looks like the devil himself, dressed in all black. Strands of his hair fall in front of his eyes, shading them from me, and I twitch to brush them out of the way. My mouth waters, watching his muscles shift in his forearms as he ties me up.
The next step is a matching red band of ropes just above my elbows, this one pulling a little tighter, forcing my arms back. His knot cinches me in place until I feel a gentle bite against my skin, and I sink into the loss of control. I’m trussed up, immobile, and a thrill runs through me at being completely at his mercy.
River steps around me, fingers grazing my hip, before tilting my chin up and running another rope over my lips, causing my mouth to drop open before he trails it down my neck. The nerves come alive at his touch, and goose bumps follow in its wake. He wraps the rope around my arms and chest in a complicated pattern, forming a perfect harness that ties in the front.
River steps back, eyes blown wide, and a growl rumbles in his throat. “You look so fucking good tied up.”